


Wishes

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: Q tries to tell himself that a single one-night stand didn't mean anything. Even though it did to him.





	1. Chapter 1

“You did  _what_?”

“ _Shhh!_  Damn it, Eve, I didn’t want to broadcast that to the entirety of MI6!” Q whispered furiously through clenched teeth. Eve Moneypenny rolled her eyes and waved his concern away as she leaned back in her seat on the bench in the mess hall. At the end of the dinner shifts, there were very few agents and other MI6 personnel present, but Q still feared that whispers would soon reach the wrong parties and he could be dragged before the review board for indiscretions with a coworker. “I said, I slept with him, but it was a one-night stand. We agreed, no strings attached, no recurring…whatever you want to call them, and most of all, we would never speak of it again,” he whispered, shaking his head when Eve opened her mouth to say something. “It didn’t mean anything to him,” he said firmly, narrowing his eyes when Eve frowned.

“But James Bond? Really? What possessed you to agree to  _that_ , especially when less than six hours before this…rendezvous, you were cursing out his existence and his ancestors to hell and back?” Eve demanded as she glanced warily at the double doors, careful to keep her voice down.

Q shrugged. “Thought it would get him out of my system, and vice versa. We did have a nice dinner beforehand,” he explained as Eve rubbed her temples. “And the evening just…just kind of went in that direction after, and we talked about it before doing anything,” he said quietly, looking down at the remnants of his dinner. He hesitated, and then said, “I only agreed to it because I thought, well, maybe it was just a passing attraction and once I got it out of my system, I’d be fine. And he would get  _me_  out of his system, and not continue with…whatever his idea of flirting is.”

“But you still have lingering feelings for him.” Eve frowned as she leaned closer to Q.

Q nodded, refusing to meet her eye. “Of course, but does it matter? I can move on, eventually, and as long as it doesn’t interfere with work, there shouldn’t be an issue,” he said quietly before reaching for his fork. Each word resonated dully throughout his chest, and he poked the half-eaten lasagna. “And now that we’ve done this, he’ll stop hanging around Q-Branch and not be so bloody distracting,” he said, shaking his head with a small smile.

“That or move on to someone else in the branch,” Eve warned.

“Then why should I let it bother me when I have no good reason to be bothered?” Q asked, idly stabbing the lasagna pasta with the fork prongs. “I mean, I was just the shiny new bauble because I haven’t even worked as Quartermaster for at least a year. Now he’ll go off and find another distraction because that’s how it works with him.”

“It once took him less than twenty-four hours to, as you so delicately put it, find another distraction, if you’re interested in a time schedule,” Eve said, winking when Q frowned at her.

“I was half-serious, but thank you,” Q said, jumping when he heard the faint  _clong_  of the mess hall doors opening behind Eve. He leaned over, and raised a brow. “And there we go,” he said, feeling his heart twist a little as James— _no, Bond_ —entered the mess hall with Tess at his side, her still laughing at something he must have said before they entered. Several people turned as the two entered, but Q suspected it was more that there were two Double-Os in a previously considered ‘safe’ zone, than suspicions of an illicit affair. “What are they doing here?” he asked, frowning as Eve turned around to get a look herself.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Eve said, shrugging both shoulders as she turned back to Q. “And Tess told me the other night, during a girls’ night out, that James has been trying clean up his act a bit while on leave for some reason that he hasn’t told her. She doesn’t know how he’s changing his routine either,” Eve added before she pulled his half-finished soup towards her. “I think M shredded him.”

“He was in M’s office for several hours last week, I haven’t forgotten that,” Q said, putting up a faint whisper of resistance when Eve took his spoon. “He seemed back to his old self by Friday, though, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he said before going back to picking at his lasagna.

“Mm, let me ask Tanner tomorrow,’ Eve said, grinning before she began to help herself.

“Mind if we sit here?”

“Yes,” Q muttered under his breath as Eve spoke over him with a cheerful, “No, plenty of seats to go around.” He looked up as Bond sat down next to Eve while Tess pushed her tray across the table towards the seat to Q’s right. “What are you both doing here so late?” he asked as Tess glanced across the room before ducking underneath the table and scooting to the other side.

“Training with two-on-two matches,” Tess said as she took her seat and pulled her tray closer to herself. “Instructors kept switching up the teams, and we all lost track of time,” she said before taking a bite of her sandwich. She nudged Q underneath the table with a foot and asked, “What are  _you_  doing here so late, Mr. I-have-to-get-up-at-five-in-the-morning?”

Q groaned as Eve stifled a giggle. “I said I was sorry about that,” he said, making a face when Tess rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I switched shifts with R so that he could sleep in tomorrow morning, which means I’m going to be out all day tomorrow, barring any life-threatening emergencies. That also means you’re going to behave as though it was me,” he said, arching a brow when Tess and Bond glanced at each other, and Tess shrugged.

“Whatever makes you happy,” she said before returning her attention to her sandwich.

“I trust you both had a restful weekend?” Bond asked, glancing between Q and Eve.

Q made a slightly strangled sound that he tried to cover up as a cough, and Eve tapped the spoon against the rim of her bowl as she pretended to think about it. Q made a point to avoid eye contact with either her or Bond, aware that he wasn’t ready to discuss that much yet. Eve saved him, though, at the last minute, when he could see the suspicion starting to fill Bond’s eyes. “It was nice, Marcela and I went down to Calais for Saturday afternoon and spent most of the trip on the beach,” she said, smiling innocently at Bond, who nodded once. “How was  _your_  weekend?” she asked, her gaze trained on Bond.

Q forced himself to keep eating.

“Aside from a wonderful start with someone, it was more or less the same as it is every weekend,” Bond calmly replied, and Q heard Eve hum in agreement. “Unfortunately, that person couldn’t stay the entire time, although I do wish they had. It was…nice to have company again, someone who wasn’t about to try and kill me,” he added, leaning back in his chair as Q finally risked a glance at him.

Tess snorted. “James, I’m surprised that you didn’t try to convince them to stay. Has Alec met this mystery person yet?” she remarked before taking another bite of sandwich.

“Yes, But the person and I agreed to a no-strings attached deal before going ahead with anything,” Bond replied, and Q felt like his stomach was turning over in an unpleasant manner. “I did think about calling this person later in the weekend, but figured that they would not appreciate it since we both agreed that it wouldn’t continue,” he added as Tess paused.

“Really? Wait, do I know this person?” she asked suddenly, leaning forward.

“Yes, but I’m not telling who,” Bond countered, tilting his head with a faint smirk.

Tess groaned. “Great, that only narrows it down to a hundred people. At least. Both in and out of work. You’d think that by adding Alec as a filter, you’d take out a few more possibilities. If I needed a sign that I need to branch out and meet new people, this would be it,” she grumbled, placing her sandwich back down on the plate. “Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, starting to stand up.

“Yes, but I’ll come with you. The chef has been holding onto some Scotch for me, I suppose we could break out between the four of us,” Bond said, glancing at Eve and Q. “Don’t leave just yet,” he said, looking at Q.

Q raised his hands to show empty palms. “And go where?”

“Touché.”

The two of them watched as the agents left the table and headed towards the buffet line, and then Eve turned to Q, who frowned when he saw her expression. “What?” he asked a moment later.

“Oh, I’m  _sure_  that your little rendezvous didn’t mean anything to him,” she said, folding her hands into a loose fist and resting her chin on top as she gazed at him.

“He only said that because I was here, I’m sure it would have been an entirely different story if I hadn’t,” Q replied, making a face at the empty plate. “Speaking of which, I should really be going, I have to finish filing the reports and prepare for tomorrow’s meeting,” he said, starting to stand up and gather the empty dishes.

“But James—”

“I never said I wouldn’t leave. And besides, he’ll have forgotten about it once he gets back. I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but he tends to get easily distracted,” he said, taking the empty bowl from Eve. He inclined his head towards her, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Only once did Q feel as though Bond watched him, but the agent was looking elsewhere when he glanced over his shoulder. So he merely shrugged to himself and left the mess hall.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good evening, Quartermaster. Anything new for me?”

Q smiled without thinking as he finished tweaking an out-of-place wire on an unfinished project, but caught himself a moment later and erased it with a sigh. “Good evening, double-oh seven, don’t you think it’s a bit late to be wandering around on the premises?” he asked, looking up at the agent, who leaned against the entrance into one of the numerous small workrooms that dotted the basement level of the building. He pulled himself back up to his feet and frowned when Bond didn’t immediately respond. “Double-oh seven, you have no new mission brief and therefore no reason to be here right now,” he said, raising a brow when Bond straightened, but didn’t leave.

“Doesn’t hurt to be curious. Riley said you were all developing a new gadget to help keep track of stubborn agents,” Bond said, a note of humor audible in his voice as he approached Q. “I still wonder who you had in mind when you came up with the tracker,” he said, grinning when Q snorted in amusement.

“Well, the mission that we originally slated for Buenos Aires that ended up in Los Angeles may have had something to do it,” he said, leaning back against the table as Bond came around to stand in front of him. He felt his breath catch when he made eye contact with Bond, but swallowed back his nerves; Bond was only here for a work-related reason. They had agreed to not speak of the Night again, and Q had barely seen Bond in the week since then, especially after that one encounter in the mess hall late at night. “I can’t imagine though, that you came down here to look at something that O’Reilly will undoubtedly show you just before he inserts it into you,” he said, straightening slightly as Bond moved closer to him. “I suspect you had another reason.”

Bond surprised him by actually nodding once. “I did, I had one question for you,” he said, taking a half-step back. Q could feel his heart thudding in his ears as Bond merely said, “I would like to know how I offended you, so that I may take care to not repeat it.”

 _What?_  Q blinked at him. “What makes you think you offended me?” he asked, frowning.

Bond didn’t seem to relax. “I apologize if this is the wrong assumption, but aside from addressing me only as double-oh seven, it is a bit difficult to catch you alone for a few minutes,” he said carefully, and Q nearly palmed his forehead in frustration at himself for being unable to be less obvious that he was trying to avoid any awkward conversations with Bond.  

“I am sorry, double-oh seven, I hadn’t realized that you wanted to discuss work-related matters that couldn’t have an audience,” he said, tilting his head when Bond raised a pointed brow. “All you needed to do was make an appointment in my office,” he said, the words heavy in his mouth. “And double-oh seven is your call sign, is it not?” he asked in an attempt to recover his professionalism.  _We have to be able to work together, which means I need to get over this._

“But you used to only use my call sign if you were very, very angry or formal with me. I can’t decide which it is this time, although I’m leaning towards anger since you’ve been doing it for a week now. Not to mention you’ve been nudging me out of Q-Branch during the day,“ Bond remarked, his posture relaxing slightly.

Q shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t want you to distract my branch staff, that’s all,” he said quietly, gripping the table behind him for some support. “And we are at work. It would be highly unprofessional of me to address you as anything other than your call sign,” he said, swallowing when he saw Bond’s eyebrow raise.

“That didn’t seem to bother you two weeks ago.” Bond glanced past Q, as though checking to see that the door was closed, and then turned back to Q. “Was it last week? When we—”

Last week. Q still remembered last week very well. He didn’t want to forget last week. “I assured you at the time, double-oh seven, that I was able to continue working with you after the fact,” Q interrupted, squaring his shoulders as he looked straight into Bond’s eyes. “That still stands. However, if you believe that there is an issue, you can always request a personnel transfer and R will handle all and any of your Q-Branch related requests. I will only step in if there is a major issue during one of your missions.” He turned back to the table, frowning as he mentally berated himself for thinking that this could work.  _Perhaps the distance could do us some good?_  “There’s just a little bit of paperwork involved, just for formality’s sake—”

“Q.”

He turned around, backing straight into the table when he promptly realized that Bond had moved closer. Before he could speak, Bond leaned forward and kissed him, bracing him with a hand around the back of his neck and the other around his waist. Q let out a squeak of surprise, but closed his eyes without thinking, relishing the feel of Bond’s quiet strength. He impulsively wrapped his arms around Bond’s neck to hold him there, breath hitching as he felt the familiar sense of warm security that came with Bond. Bond was careful and slow as he moved a hand from Q’s neck to through his hair, running his fingers gently through the strands before falling still again. When they pulled apart to breathe, Q rested his forehead against Bond’s, unable to meet Bond’s eyes as he brushed their noses together before Bond began to leave a gentle, yet familiar, trail of slow kisses and bites. Q kept his eyes closed, momentarily caught up in the fondness for the agent that always closed his throat up even as he lifted his chin to give the agent better access. He squeezed his lips shut even as he bowed his head to brush a kiss along the top of Bond’s head, the words hovering within reach.

“I can’t…”

He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken until Bond abruptly fell still, and then pulled away carefully. Q only risked one glance as Bond stepped away, already fixing his jacket cuffs and looking anywhere other than at Q. Feeling vaguely confident that he wasn’t about to lose his composure, Q straightened his cardigan, resisting the urge to shudder from the loss of the agent’s warmth as he collected himself. “I’m sorry, but I have a few more projects to finish right now,” he said, gesturing uselessly to the table behind him.

“And we did agree to keep it as a one-time deal, nothing more,” Bond pointed out, straightening his suit jacket. Q didn’t know who he was trying to convince, but the words fell flat in Q’s ears. “Excuse me, Quartermaster, and thank you for the advice regarding the appointment in your office for any private work-related matters,” he said before leaving, touching Q’s shoulder briefly before leaving the workroom altogether, pulling the door behind him.

Q waited until silence fell again, torn between despair at having lost the intimacy for a second time and strange relief that he would be spared the pain from the aftermath. “I can’t pretend it means nothing to me for a second time,” he whispered, quietly finishing his earlier sentence as he stared at the blank wall where Bond’s form had once been. “Damn it all…just… _damn_ ,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve already made a fine mess of me once, I can’t go through that again. I know I’m convenient because at least you know that I’m not going to unpredictably leave London, or your life for that matter, but you don’t need to cut my notch deeper into the bloody bedpost,” he said, voice nearly breaking as he turned back to the gadget, his interest suddenly gone as he stared at the device.  _The paperwork. I’ll get him that paperwork so that he at least has the option._

With a growl, Q placed a few scattered pieces back into their tray and turned the few lamps off, leaving the safety lights on. Then he gathered his anorak and computer bag before walking towards the door that to the safer part of the R&D labs.

His heart sank when he realized that the door had never been properly closed.


	3. Chapter 3

“I can’t believe he’s actually gone for good.”

A snort, and Q rolled his eyes before looking at Eve from across the dining table, raising a brow when he saw that she was suppressing a laugh. Around the two of them, the dining room within Olive Garden was noisy enough to provide a cover for their conversations, but quiet enough that neither Eve nor Q had to shout in order to be heard. “Oh my God, you should have seen M’s  _face_  when I told him that Bond had left with Dr. Swann, and took a Q-Branch car while at it,” Eve said, grinning even as Q frowned. “I told him right after the meeting with the Ministry of Defence, and they had  _just_  allowed us to re-instate the double-oh program. His eye twitched a bit, but he’s not authorizing the re-assignment of Bond’s number designation until he sees the resignation letter on his desk.”

“Yeah, I know, I saw the email,” Q said, rubbing his temples to ease the headache he’d been suffering through over the last few days. Shaking his head, he reached for a breadstick and broke it in half. “But this is Ja—Bond, he’ll probably send his resignation letter via email, and the way this week has been going, the bastard will send it to me first,” he said, making a face as he snatched the olive oil bowl before Eve could move it out of his reach. “And that was his car, by the way. I had just tweaked it before giving it to him, and then fixed it when he asked.”

Eve made a soft humming sound to herself. “And you’re doing all right?” she asked, arching a brow when Q looked back up at her. “I mean, I knew you really  _really_  liked him, but…”

Q nodded, giving a half-smile to cover the twist of familiar, aching pain in his heart. “I’ll be fine…I mean, I still love him. But now that he won’t be around to remind me of it, and of that one night we did sleep together, so I’ll heal, I’ll be fine,” he said, shrugging a shoulder as he dipped one end of the breadstick into the bowl. “Besides, he wasn’t mine to begin with. I don’t think it meant anything to him, and I didn’t want to compromise our relationship by telling him how I really felt.” He hesitated, suddenly remembering the one moment that Bond had cornered him in the workroom; Bond had made himself extremely scarce after that. It had hurt at the time–it still did–but Q knew he only needed a chance to heal.

_And now my bloody wish is granted. Careful what you wish for, I suppose…_

Eve sighed, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Do you think he really tried to instigate something the last time he cornered you in the branch, though, or do you think you were reading too much into the encounter?” she asked, toying with the edge of the menu.

“No, nothing started because I said that I couldn’t…I couldn’t keep going like it didn’t matter to me, that’s all. And he stopped, and then went to Mexico City nearly two weeks later for no good reason,” he said, taking another sip of his wine.

Eve looked guilty, and Q just  _knew_  that she knew something that he didn’t. “What did he tell you?” he demanded, setting his wineglass down.

Eve hesitated, and then shrugged. “Technically was supposed to be a secret, but now that he’s not here and we’re not being monitored…” she leaned forward, grinning broadly, and whispered, “M, Mallory’s predecessor, had told him to not only go find and kill a man named Marco Sciarra, but to also attend his funeral and go from there.  _That’s_ why he went to Rome after stopping here in London.”

“Then why the bloody hell was he in Austria?” Q whispered back.

“Hell if I know,” Eve said, shrugging a shoulder. “Last I knew, he was chasing a man named Mr. White from Quantum. Don’t ask me how he went from Mr. White to Dr. Swann, though, that’s still a mystery to me,” Eve said, reaching for her own wineglass. She nodded towards Q, who shrugged. “But enough of that. As for you, Q, how’s the injury?”

Q shrugged, gingerly touching the few stitches in his forehead; the adrenaline of racing against Spectre three nights ago had erased the pain from when one of the goons shot his car window in an attempt to kill M, and he’d finally limped into Medical’s makeshift facility when he saw the smeared blood on his fingers. “It doesn’t really hurt at the moment, but then again, O’Reilly has me taking these strong painkillers for it. Medical had to do…do a few things before they released me because of the window that broke,” he said, grimacing when Eve made a face. “Anyway, O’Reilly told me then that he’s refusing to move into the CNC building because it still gives him the creeps. I told him that I had already told M that I’m not going back either because the association with Denbigh and his Nine Eyes program is too hard to let go.”

“And Spectre annihilated our old building. Which means it’s basically back to the tunnels for us,” Eve grumbled as she glanced across the dining room. “Where the  _hell_  is our waiter?”

“Well, the old building wasn’t up to code as it was, we would have been in the tunnels until it was fixed anyway,” Q pointed out before taking another bite of breadstick.

“Yeah, but reconstructions would have been easier to deal with. Did you know that before Denbigh appeared on the scene, Director Falsworth from MI5 offered to provide security for the construction site? M was about to sign off on the contract when Denbigh waltzed onto the scene with his surveillance program,” Eve said, glancing down at her mobile when it chimed an incoming text from its place on the table. “Sorry, that’s just Owen,” she said, unlocking the screen with a swipe and exiting the app. “And Falsworth also apologized for Denbigh’s behavior; apparently, he showed promise when he got hired, but then Falsworth put him on probation after a few incidents at Five.  _Then_  Denbigh went independent to show off his shiny new program,” she said, and Q snorted.

“Well, he wasn’t good enough in the end,” he remarked, a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye catching his attention. He reached for the menu and looked at the newcomer.

Only to jump in his chair a second later in shock when James Bond put an empty chair and placed it between Q and Eve before sitting down himself, reaching for Eve’s menu. “Oh  _hell_  no, you don’t,” Eve snapped, snatching her menu and moving it out of reach. “Not after that stunt you pulled the other day. What the  _hell_ are you doing here?” she demanded, scooting back when Q tried to reach out to her to rest a placating hand on her wrist.

Bond didn’t look offended, rather slightly amused as he took Q’s menu instead. “I am hoping to eat dinner with a few colleagues,” he said, tilting his head before opening the menu.

Q glanced surreptitiously at the front door, confusion growing when he didn’t see Dr. Swann within the general vicinity. “Well, um, we haven’t ordered yet, so you’re just in time,” he said finally, gingerly reaching over to the table on his other side to grab another empty chair. He hesitated, momentarily unsure of how to broach the subject without implying anything he didn’t mean to. “Should I pull up another chair?” he asked finally, glancing at Bond as he started to stand up to reach the empty chair better.

“No. Well, unless the two of you are expecting someone else. Eve’s boyfriend, maybe,” Bond said, using the menu to shield himself when Eve attempted to smack his arm. “Dr. Swann is on her way to her next destination. I fulfilled my promise to her father, he gave me the information that I wanted, everyone goes home with obligations taken care of,” he said, blue eyes skimming the items in front of him.

 _What the—_ “What promise?” Q asked, feeling lost as Eve stared at Bond, her mouth dropping into an ‘O’ as she realized something.

“Austria, Q. I bet it’s that transition point between Mr. White and Dr. Swann that we couldn’t figure out,” she said before Bond could speak, looking back innocently when Bond raised a brow in her direction.

“I promised to look out and take care of Mr. White’s daughter if he would just tell me what I wanted to know. He did, and I just saw Dr. Swann off at Heathrow late this morning,” Bond said, closing the menu as he looked at Eve. “Why, did you think I left for good?”

“It’s happened before,” Eve said bluntly, jaw still twitching in anger as Q cringed, suddenly remembering one of the persistent rumors surrounding Bond, that he’d left MI6 once for a woman. Vesper Lynd. “It’s happened before, and people here have been affected by it both times,” she said through clenched teeth. “You have to bloody  _decide_ and stick to your damn decision,” she growled, swatting Bond’s hand as he tried to reach for the breadstick basket.

Q felt a tendril of panic curl in his gut, and he carefully extended a foot and rested it on Eve’s in warning. Bond merely raised a brow before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, a smirk playing about on his features as he studied Eve. “Why, Miss Moneypenny, I didn’t think you’d miss me  _that_  much, given you went through the trouble to  _shoot_ me once,” he said, smirking as he shifted his body slightly to face her.

One moment, Q was leaning forward to listen to Eve’s reply as well, the next, he jumped with a yelp when he felt a sharp heel drive into his toes. “ _Ffffuck,_ ” he wheezed, retracting his foot as Bond turned sharply to face him. Q couldn’t face him…not yet, so he curled slightly to rest his head on his arm, facing away from Bond as he breathed through clenched teeth to deal with the lingering shots of pain through his foot. Then he bumped his stitches against his sleeve, swore again at the prick of pain, and then sat back up straight again, refusing to meet Bond’s eye.

“Q, he has got to know. And I didn’t say it was me who was affected.” Eve pushed her chair back, gathering her purse and mobile. “Q, I’ll be right back, Owen is about to call me again and I think this is something better done in privacy. When the waiter comes, I’d like the fettuccini alfredo with chicken. I would also like another glass of wine, same stuff as I ordered before,” she said, smiling as she jerked her chin towards Bond before turning on her heel and walking away.

Q let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, leaning back in his chair as he took another sip of his wine. He could hear Bond turning the pages of the menu, and he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a deep weariness as he tried to pull his professional persona back together.  _Bond doesn’t do commitments._  With a sigh, he opened his eyes again, setting down the half-empty wineglass as Bond finally closed the menu. He hesitated— _I can do this, I can be casual with him_ —and then turned to Bond, breath catching slightly when he met Bond’s steady gaze. “I take it, then, that the DB5 survived?” he asked, choosing the first neutral topic he could think of in a second.

“Mm. Works beautifully, I haven’t tested all of the features yet. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Bond said, closing the menu and setting it aside. He rolled his shoulders back, giving Q a rueful smile before he admitted, “You’re a hard man to find when you don’t want to be, I almost headed back to the tunnels to find R for help.”

Q shrugged a shoulder. “Bed rest. Broken glass apparently does quite a bit of damage,” he said, gesturing to the stitches. He stiffened when Bond leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his forehead, tilting his head back as though to see the stitches better. “But I’m not upset, hazards of fieldwork and all. M escaped, though, and that’s what’s important,” he said, pulling away from Bond’s reach. He looked down at his glass, and then said, “Well, I’m here now, so you can say your bit and we can move on with our lives and the next colossal threat.” He inclined his head towards Bond and said, “You should take advantage of the unofficial leave time, God knows you’ve earned it,” he said, lightening his voice to conceal the sinking feeling of despair in his chest. “You can still catch Dr. Swann, I’m sure.”

Bond nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at the entrance to the restaurant. “Or you could keep your mouth shut and let me say what I want to say without interrupting,” he said mildly, ignoring Q’s scowl. “Dr. Swann doesn’t want anything to do with this life anymore, and I respect that decision. It was always my intention to let her leave, but I couldn’t communicate that to M or anyone else at the time because Blofeld was  _right there_ , and I’m not going to let him have the upper hand in my life anymore.”

 _What?_ “Ja—Bond, you’re not making any sense whatsoever,” Q said, rubbing his temples. “What does Blofeld have to do with anything?”

“He claims to be responsible for Vesper’s death, for M’s, for anyone I tried to get close to, it was a game for him,” Bond explained patiently as he snatched a breadstick from the bowl. “So I let him think that I was going with Dr. Swann, and I didn’t tell Swann what I was going to do once she left London.”

“So you don’t trust her either?” Q asked, frowning slightly as he picked up his wineglass.

“Her father was in Quantum and Spectre. Enough to warrant caution,” Bond replied, shaking his head. “But that’s not my point. My point is that Spectre is no longer watching, and I want…” he paused, frowning as he set the breadstick down. Q raised a brow, but remained silent as he watched Bond consider another approach. “Q, I’m not good at this,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair. “If I was, I would have asked you to stay that night, to stay the weekend. I would have asked you, back in your labs, to finish that sentence when we kissed.” He leaned forward and said quietly, “I would have asked you that, before I left for Mexico. But then I realized, if I’m about to go off the grid at the bidding of a ghost, distance was probably the best thing for the both of us.” He hesitated, and then said, “I came back for you.”

 _Fuck_. Q knew exactly which night Bond referred to. He swallowed, setting his glass down. Bond never looked away from him.  _Fair is fair: he laid his cards out, time for mine._  “I—I would have said, had you waited that moment in the labs, ‘I can’t go through this again, pretending this means nothing to me’,” he said bluntly, mouth dry as he belatedly realized that he still had to work with the agent, even if this conversation went south— _shit_. “But if you truly wanted to leave Six, I’m not going to stop—” he began, hating himself for mentioning the possibility. “Damn it, James, I just want you to be happy for once, all right?” he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Bond cut him off then, reaching for him and gently cradling the back of his neck in one hand before pulling him into a deep kiss. Q froze in surprise, hope swelling in his chest before he tampered it down slightly. He managed to pull away long enough to say, “James, if this is just a ploy to get something that you want—”

Bond exhaled slowly, releasing Q’s neck only to pause when Q bowed his head to rest their foreheads together. Q thought he felt Bond’s face lift into a slight smile. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to hear you call me that again,” he admitted after a moment before slowly releasing a sigh. “Q, I don’t think that there’s a way I can convince you that I  _don’t_  want anything from you except  _you_ , but I’m willing to go at your pace and your terms.” He pressed another kiss to Q’s forehead before pulling away, already reaching for the menu again.

Q smiled softly, and then reached for Bond’s hand a moment later, underneath the table, quietly feeling cautiously happy for the first time in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) I hope you enjoyed the story.

**Author's Note:**

> James Bond and all related media belong to Ian Fleming.


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